His Legacy
by SasukeBlade
Summary: Who will take her, this girl he has come to love so much since Jo-she had left her on his doorstep years ago? Barley's not getting any younger. TVSF contest entry.


My entry for The Village Square's contest! The theme is mortality/death. Hope I did it justice!

* * *

Barley rises with the sun, has for as long as he can remember, and though his joints seem to creak and groan like the stairs in his old wooden home, he thinks he always will.

May sleeps peacefully, despite the noise of grandfather and staircase. Her dark hair spreads over her pillow, caressing her face in a way she won't permit while awake. He smiles at the sight. She is so small, so much smaller than Jo--than _she_ was at that age.

They have fewer cows than they used to, when he was a boy, and later a man in his prime. Still, he feeds, brushes, and milks each one himself, calling them by name. They low softly in the barn until he lets them out into the yard, to munch on the dew covered grass. May will be out later, to murmur sweet girl whispers in their ears, to pat each one, to join the beautiful world of make believe for one more day.

He wishes he could play with her more, and thanks the Goddess every day for that little boy up the lane. Stu, despite his penchant for bugs (something Barley secretly chuckles over each time May comes home complaining), has never been anything but good for his little girl.

If only there were more folk like him in this town, he thinks as he opens up shop for the day. More youngsters, anyway. It would be nice for May to have a girl to play with. Poor Stu doesn't like dress-up much anymore, not since that time with Karen's skirts.

Looking out the window to make sure May is still in the yard, he opens a drawer behind the counter and removes the fold of papers within. Shaking fingers undo each fold, and he scans them, blinking blearily through thick lenses. Everything seems to be in order. There is just one place left to mark.

Who will take her, this girl he has come to love so much since Jo--_she_ had left her on his doorstep years ago? Who does he trust enough to raise her well, to be patient and kind? Who will remember each and every day that she is his own sweet granddaughter, his only family left, his legacy? After Beth had died, he had been certain there was no life worth living without his wife.

And then May had appeared, so small, her hair the same dark color as Beth's, as Jo--_hers_. Barley can't imagine life without her, and he thanks the Goddess every day that he is old enough to not have to.

Who will be good enough to her? Who will be able to explain death to an eight-year-old, Goddess forbid she comes for him tomorrow? Who will be able to handle a child, and then a young lady? Who will love her like her mother should have, like he always has?

Ellen is too old, otherwise he would write her name in a heartbeat. Elli would be a good second choice, but once Ellen passes, she'll have her hands full with Stu. Barley's mind roams through the other residents of Mineral Town. For a moment he contemplates the quiet librarian, Mary, then recalls her own mother. No, definitely none of the gossiping housewives. If Lillia weren't so sick, she would also be an option.

Pastor Carter is a good man, but he is only a man. He wants May to have a mother, or at least an older sister. Perhaps Doug, and his girl Ann would fit the bill? Barley sighs. They're good people, if a little rowdy. Doug has done well raising his girl singlehandedly, surely he could handle another.

It's not the right choice, though. Barley shuffles the papers back into the file and replaces it below the desk. Maybe tomorrow he will have the answer.

A chime of a bell pulls him from his thoughts. "Morning!" a cheerful voice calls, and he looks up with a grin. It's only Claire, the bright farmer from down the road edging through the door, stamping the dust from her boots on the welcome mat. Despite having spent only two and a half years at the Harvest Farm, she's been more successful than many of the other farmers in the outlying areas.

"How are you?" she asks, stopping over in the corner to pet May's dog, Hannah. "May told me you were creaking like an old gate this morning."

He chuckles at his granddaughter's cleverness. "Sounds about right! There's still life in these bones though," he tells the young farmer, reaching below the counter. "Ah, got your Animal Medicine right here," Barley says, and as he straightens with a groan, his arm brushes the packet of papers.

What about Claire?

He recalls when the farmer first showed up, how May had come home with stories of the new girl. Claire had been kind to May, and now the two counted each other as friends. The farmer girl had never mistreated her animals, was kind, decent, and already a sister figure to his granddaughter.

But she's so young! Jo-_she _couldn't handle the responsibilities. How can he expect this girl to accept a burden so great? A burden that was never hers to begin with?

All he can do is ask, and he offers a little prayer.

"Before I give you this, there's something I want to ask you," Barley says. Claire's mouth quirks into a smile, her eyes crinkling.

"It's a little late to ask me to the Fireworks Festival," she informs him, leaning on the counter. "I'm flattered, but I promised Rick I'd go with him."

Barley can't help but grin at that. "Were I a few years younger," he says, and she laughs. "The truth is, Claire, I'm getting old. If something should happen to me, May's not old enough to take care of herself."

He sees the comprehension dawning in her expression and hurries on. "Now, there's no other family. Just me. I've been thinking of the people in the village, and well, I want her to have a mother, or at least a sister to look up to. You're kind, successful, and you care about her already. I know it's a burden I'm asking you to take on, and her mother--" he takes the plunge "--Joanna couldn't do it. I would understand if you felt unable to do so as well."

With another deep breath he's ready to continue telling her that he understands and he's sorry to bother her when she holds up a hand. Her eyes are watery and her face is flushed. "I'd be honored," she says. "If you think I'm..." she trails off. A thousand words fill the empty space: capable, good enough, right, suitable. "But Goddess, Barley, you're not going anytime soon, you hear me? She needs you."

They both look out the small window, to the yard where the girl in question wanders back and forth among the flowers, twirling occasionally. She looks up and catches sight of them, waving excitedly for Claire to come out. The farmer holds up a finger to indicate it will only be a moment.

"I don't want to leave her," Barley says quietly, the fear and sorrow welling up to constrict his throat.

"How could anyone?" Claire asks, taking the sack of medicine from the counter. She leaves with a smile, heading out to greet May and perhaps pass an hour with a game or two.

He pulls the papers out again, but this time he carefully prints her name where he left the blank space. Joanna's name should be there, he knows, but how is he to even know if she lives? At least Claire recognizes what a treasure this girl is.

She can sign as a witness when she comes back through. Harris can be his second signature. He pens a small note to May explaining what occurred, then signs everything one last time. Once more he replaces the papers below the desk.

Past the windowpane, Claire bends her blonde head down to look at the newest blossom May has procured. She laughs at something the smaller girl has just said, then tucks another flower into her long, dark hair.

She'll be taken care of.

He sighs, and something that has been wound tightly inside him for years slowly relaxes.


End file.
